Burning Up
by kak1994
Summary: Haymitch's point of view of the rebellion, the return to the ruins of District 12, and the final journey to District 13. Set after Catching Fire.


**Author's Note: This is my very first fanfic. It is Haymitch's point of view about the rebellion, his life, and the voyage to District 13. This is set after the end of Catching Fire.**

Burning Up

I slammed my fist against the wall of the hovercraft.

Of course the girl would insist on returning to District 12 – well, the remains of it, anyway. As Plutarch and Finnick had told me, she deserved it. She was the precious mockingjay, the symbol of the rebellion.

The Capitol had bombed District 12, which was Katniss and Peeta's district as well as mine. However, Katniss – the stubborn girl – insisted on going back to her home before we arrived at District 13, the destroyed district that had risen from the ashes of the Capitol's destruction. I had realized that the girl needed to go to District 12 one last time. It was dangerous, I knew, but as Plutarch had pointed out, what wasn't nowadays?

So now the hovercraft was on its way to the remains of District 12, and I was still angry with Katniss for insisting it, even though I understood her thought process. She was already angry enough with me, I thought, as I gingerly touched the side of my face. The furrows from Katniss' fingernails, bloody and raw, stood out in sharp relief.

I thought back to when it had occurred. Katniss had been told of the news of the rebellion that was now full-scale over Panem. She had also been told the full story behind her rescue from the Hunger Games arena. However, her district partner, Peeta, had been captured by the Capitol. Katniss, even through the haze of pain from her wounds from the arena, had understood the gravity of the situation.

She knew, just has Plutarch, Finnick, and I knew that the Capitol would brutally torture Peeta until he gave away the girl's location. We all knew that even if Peeta did know where his love was, he wouldn't tell the malicious Capitol, even if it meant his pain and suffering.

Katniss' swift reaction had surprised even me. Katniss had lunged across the table and raked her fingernails across my face when she was told the news about Peeta. And, I reflected, how could I blame her? Her friend – even though he wanted to be much more than that – was being held in the Capitol, tortured because of her. Of course she was upset.

Although I had been furious, and still was, I could not help but to sympathize with her. I thought back to my own Hunger Games, when my own district partner – and ally – was killed brutally moments after we had broken off our alliance. I had won the Hunger Games, but like Katniss, I had been furious with the Capitol. I had turned to alcohol to try and numb the overwhelming pain. Soon after I won, though, I had been forced to be a mentor for the following District 12 tributes. After training and training, and them all dying, my pain had become even more intense.

I had started to blame myself for their deaths. When finally Katniss and Peeta had come along, they had shown me that they actually had a chance of winning the annual Hunger Games. They stayed alive throughout the Games, beating every opponent.

Then it had come down to both of them. Katniss had discovered some poisonous berries in the arena and she and Peeta were both fully prepared to take them, to defy the Capitol. The Capitol, persuaded by the audience who thought Peeta and Katniss were in love, gave them both the title of winner. After that, though, they had been accused of starting a rebellion against the Capitol.

Now, the Capitol was desperately trying to find Katniss, and here she was, returning to either one of the first or last places they would look. After the Hunger Games had ended, the Capitol had bombed Katniss' city to show what happened to people who defied the Capitol. President Snow would think that the last place Katniss would go was to the remains of her district, but they would probably check there, just to make sure. So, we were probably going to be caught, but Katniss had insisted. And Katniss, as the symbol of the rebellion, got her way.

As I was lost in my overwhelming thoughts, Finnick had come into the room. I look up without moving my head, and I can tell that he is shocked at seeing me with my head in my hands, because the boy has always thought of me as being invincible. After Finnick has recovered from his shock, he says, "Haymitch, Plutarch says we are going to be arriving in District 12 in less than five minutes. He says to let Katniss know."

I lifted up my head and sighed. I knew this would be hard – in particular, for Katniss and me. I was about to answer Finnick when I heard something – just the slightest inhalation of breath right outside the door. I grimaced. There was only one person who would have the nerve to eavesdrop right outside of my door. "There's no need to do that, Finnick – she's right outside the door."

With astounding speed – just as fast as my younger self, I approved – Finnick lunged at the door and pulled it open before Katniss had time to dash away. Sure enough, Katniss standing to the side of the door, listening. As Finnick pulled her into the room, I thought again how sneaky she was. However, I am both paranoid and experienced, and that makes me almost impossible to sneak up or eavesdrop on.

Katniss scowls at Finnick and I. She is always upset with me lately, and she is upset at Finnick for never hinting to her about the rebellion. She is upset at everyone, mainly, for using her to defy the Capitol. Finnick shrinks back just the slightest bit – he is slightly wary of her. He knows how her mind works, as he was with her the majority of their time in the arena. He knows what she will do to get Peeta back.

Although I know this, too, I am unafraid of her. She is wild and dangerous, just like me, and so I have an advantage over Finnick. I meet her angry glare steadily without flinching.

We are locked in a silent confrontation until Plutarch himself comes into the room. He takes in the situation quickly: Finnick quietly backing away, and Katniss and I in a staring match of sorts. He interrupts us with a couple of words: "Katniss! Haymitch!"

We quickly break apart and look at him, annoyed. Plutarch finishes, now that he has gotten our undivided attention. "We are landing at District 12. Katniss, you will need to stay close to us. Finnick, you will guard her?"

Finnick nods, glancing at her to gauge her reaction to having a bodyguard. She is exasperated, as we can all tell by her facial expression, but she knows that she will not be allowed to get off the hovercraft unless she obeys our orders. That being taken care of, Plutarch turns to me. "Haymitch, are you ready?"

I shoot a sarcastic glance at him – my specialty – and then nod. He understands what my hesitations are, but he wants to appease Katniss. He feels as though we all owe her, for losing Peeta to the Capitol. I feel that too, but I don't want to risk all of our lives, and the rebellion, for Katniss to see the remains of her home. Plutarch nods. "Let's go, then."

We all troop out of the hovercraft that belongs to District 13, Finnick and Katniss bringing up the rear. Finnick grasps Katniss' upper arm tightly. She shoots a glance at him, and then at Plutarch and I. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. Within the space of five seconds, she has gauged all of our potential reactions to her breaking free of Finnick.

She looks down at the ground again, and Finnick relaxes. I, however, grow even more focused and aware, because I know what she is thinking. She discovered that we can almost always tell what the other is thinking in her first Hunger Games. If I was trying to send a message by delivering or withholding food at a particular time, she'd know what I was trying to tell her.

We are both very similar, although we have our differences. We both possess the overwhelming urge to survive. However, right now she has forgotten all of that.

In a second, she twists Finnick's arm up and away from her, and breaks free of him. She darts quickly away, her braid swinging down her back, but I am already moving. I catch her arm while she is preoccupied with getting as far away from Finnick as she possibly can. She struggles, but I am cunning and experienced, not to mention a lot stronger, and I hang on tight.

She glares at me again while I address Finnick and Plutarch. "Change of plans. I'll be her bodyguard, since I know her the best."

Finnick looks relieved, and I can't blame him. To everyone else but Peeta, Gale, and I, Katniss is utterly predictable. Plutarch nods, accepting this new information with ease.

For the first time, we all focus on our surroundings. This is the first time that any one of us has seen what used to be District 12. The charred ground is still smoldering. The ashes of homes and the number of pieces of wood and stone are strewn about the city. Katniss' beloved forest is nothing but tree stumps and ashes. District 12 is nothing but dust, ashes, and smoke. The only things that are left standing are the stocks, gallows, and the whipping post. Except for the slight layer of soot covering them, they are untouched.

Katniss gasps, and once again I know what she is thinking. District 12 has become an example of those who defy the Capitol, just like District 13 was so many years ago. I look over at her. Her mouth moves, but no sound comes out. I lean down and put my ear as close to her mouth without letting go of her arm. I am nothing if not careful. She croaks out, "Fire. They set fire to it."

I immediately understand what she is trying to say. The past two years, thanks to Cinna and Portia's designs, Katniss and Peeta have been tributes who were lit up by fire. Katniss was known as The Girl On Fire. Just like the Capitol engineered fireballs to rain down on Katniss in her first Games, they have once again used her nickname against her.

This simple fact makes her start crying. Tears began streaming down her face, and even I feel a tug of compassion for Katniss. She has no one right now – her mother and Prim are in District 13, along with Gale. Peeta is in the Capitol being held hostage, and Plutarch, Finnick, and I are not exactly affectionate. I raise my hand to pat her shoulder, to try to comfort her. But I lower it. I am not comfortable with affection.

However, Plutarch surprises me when he comes over and puts his arms around Katniss. I guess that Katniss' tears have brought a paternal side out of him. I still hang on to her, though, because even though we are sort of a jumbled tangle of people, I wouldn't put it past the wildcat to put up with Plutarch's affection and then run off somewhere. She's usually pretty sensible, but sometimes her emotions get the best of her. After all, she is a teenage girl, albeit a mature one.

I thought that Katniss would just stand there stiffly, but surprisingly, she falls into Plutarch's embrace. At first, I think this is just another trap of hers, but Plutarch glances at me and shakes his head. I reluctantly follow his orders and let go of Katniss.

It is then that I realize that Katniss is not faking; she is truly comforted by Plutarch's hug. She has experienced so much turmoil in her life, especially recently, and she cannot deal with it by herself anymore. And right now, Plutarch is the only one who can comfort her. Finnick is slightly scared of Katniss, and I am not comforting in the least. Plutarch has become a father figure to her at this moment, if not only for a short time.

This endearing action makes me realize something that never occurred to me. I realize that Katniss and I are in fact very different people, even though we both thought we were similar.

We both have the same survival instinct, yes, but Katniss is compassionate. She has shown over and over again that she cares about people like Rue, Prim, Peeta, and Gale. I, on the other hand, have the emotional capacity of a walnut. I have no one in my life that I care about, except for perhaps Katniss and Peeta.

The Hunger Games have corrupted me – they have taken away my compassion. I used to care about life, and people, but ever since my participation in the Hunger Games, the Capitol has slowly but surely taken away my heart.

Katniss' tear-streaked face glances up at me. She shakes her head at me, and I know that she thinks I am wrong about myself. I feel as though a sudden weight has been lifted. I am compassionate – or close enough to it – in Katniss' eyes, and so I am doing the right thing.

Any doubts that I had about the rebellion are gone now, because I know that the Capitol is trying to corrupt us. We are fighting against the Capitol because the Capitol is trying to do one thing: it is trying to burn us up.


End file.
